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Kiph froze and considered, blocking out the extraneaous voices in his head and trying to focus on the issue at hand. He first knelt and swiped some blood with his finger, tasting the metallic tang. He had learned to identify various types of blood by taste from his Fatebringer Master, Abak Loett, and he now wondered who the victim had been.

Next, Kiph briefly looked back at Ralkhara, Bakur, and Ceres, and indicated with a facial expression, that he was going in to investigate the garage.

Slowly, deliberately, and silently as possible, Kiph edged his way inside, crawling along the contours of the truck, while simultaneously eyeing the bike.

The truck was humming. The engine was running. Carefully, Kiph rose up on the passanger's side of the window, attempting to see the driver's seat, and whether or not it was occupied.

<OOC> Couple of things. One, Kiph would like to see if he can generally identify the 'blood type', he is tasting (just because ). Secondly, he is obviously using all the necessary stealth skills to make his way around the garage. Thirdly, if no one is operating the truck, Kiph will jump in the driver's seat, and call back to the others to join him. Its get away time people!</OOC>

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

From downstairs Kiph overheard Ralkhara suggest several options in regards to what they should do now. Apparently G'Kraun were in the air vents and on the other side of this door was blood, and lots of it. Tasting some of the crimson fluid, Kiph decided it was human, but the stench of G'Kraun was thick on it. There was no doubt in his mind that this man had been cut by the blade of a G'Kraun. Using the abilities taught to him during his period of captivity, abilities no other he ever met could claim, Kiph decided the man had the blood type A+. It was also still hot, suggesting a fresh kill or wound.

Edging his way through the door, Kiph froze again as the door creaked softly. To his ears the sound grated like the blaring of some infernal horn, but it seemed no one heard after all. At least no one came rushing into the garage, for which the scout was grateful.

Kiph crawled alongside the dump truck, which was of a primitive ancient design. It had green military canvas stretched in a U shape over its cargo dump and inside several crates had been stored. There were benches on either side of the cargo dump, suggesting the truck was also used for city watch and prisoner transport. To get to the passenger side, Kiph had to circle around it, and as he did so he noticed a gas pump in the rear end of the garage, close to where he was lurking. There was a rack for holding rifles too, but those had been taken already. To the left of the rack was an open door and on the other side of that a medical cabinet. Through the open door Kiph spied the bottom of another stairwell, suggesting there were more floors above them.

Slowly the nomad climbed the truck and looked in through it's passenger window. For that he was rewarded with a ghastly sight. In the driver's seat sat a man, his throat slashed open by a vicious cut, his head hanging out the window. He wore the green uniform of the warden's watchers and in the passenger seat his assault rifle laid unused.

At that moment several hisses sounded from above and a woman screamed, her voice full of fear and panic. A gruff male voice shouted: "DIE! DIE!", his words followed by the rattling sound of machine gun fire. Then there was silence.

Taking a look out, Kiph's jaws dropped visibly. There, in the horizon, was a huge spacer aircraft. It rested by the south wall, having crushed a third of the storage facility, which was now dwarfed by the huge vessel. Flames burst from its metal hull only to be quenched seconds later by torrential rain and fierce gusts of wind. Squinting Kiph noticed something else; huge black rods jutted from the hull of the ship, the cracks in the metal suggested they were not meant to be there. It looked like some giant or god of the ancients had pierced the hulking vessel, and it had stranded in Bleak Wood like some tormented, harpooned whale. It was from this ship that the alarm sounded. *AROOOO - AROOOO - AROOOO*. Outside the entrance to the storage facility a group of people had flocked around a pole with a flapping banner. By the looks of it the garage could hold three other trucks, precisely the number of trucks that were parked close by the gathering of humans.

Looking in another direction Kiph noticed Steroid Anne’s place. The neon sign flittered briefly in the dark. Outside it was eerily quiet; the usual crowd was gone or inside, hiding behind barred doors.

(OOC: Checks rolled: sneak, listen, spot hidden, biology. Obviously there was at least one failure (sneak), but the severity of that failure seems inconsequential).

The life’s essence had flowed away. So what! Who cares! Who is he to me! Just a stupid no one, who was now dead. No doubt he had not suffered like I had! Good, another scum dead! Bleakwood would not miss him! Bleakwood was an evil &^%$@!

Kiph caught himself; his lunatic stirrings were coming to the fore again.

A second later, at the side of the assault rifle, the world temporarily stopped for Kiph. He loved his knives, he had learned to love even his own rancid blood, but this…this weapon was a rare prize for the nomad. He even had ammo, Kiph thought excitedly, as he felt the bumps in his jean jacket pockets. He made a quick mental note to ask Ceres which bullets would be best. After all, Kiph knew little about guns.

One more thing Bakur wouldn’t be getting, he had time to giggle insanely.

Suddenly the machine gun fire sounded, and a woman screamed. Kiph could not be sure which happened first, for the Fatebringer was reveling in the delicious sound of the woman’s terrifying shriek. **** probably had it coming!

It was then he glanced outside, and froze, his mouth agape, waiting for his slitted eyes to adjust to the bizarre sight. They had come for him! He thought at first irrationally, the spacers had come for him again!

But no, he garbled to himself to keep from shaking, they are not out for you, are they, Kipher ol’ boy. In fact, “they” seemed to be in a world of their own hurt! Die spacers die! Kiph managed to whisper, before his eyes went back upon the scene.

Bizarre! He simply didn’t know what to make of this great crash, conflagration and incineration.

Not waiting for a response, Kiph began to strip. Once naked, he proceeded to strip the dead man at the wheel. His idea was to switch clothes, but he was not quite finished when he spied Bakur coming up from the side and eyeing the scout with bulging saucer eyes.

“No, no, Bakur! No! Not what you think! Stop thinking in fact; you’re no good at it! Fill the truck with gas! Hurry! The pump is in the back! Hurry! Where is Ceres and Ralkhara?”

Once more, not waiting for a response from the warrior, Kiph finished donning the dead man’s uniform, stuffing all of his possessions into his new green clothes, and switched seats with the corpse, shoving the warden’s watcher into the passenger seat.

“Ceres, Ralkhara! Lets roll!! Kiph grabbed the wheel. He had never driven anything bigger than a dune buggy, but he was ready!

Kiph considered slamming the gas, and running over the gathered group of people, while waiting for his companions, but then he saw Steroid Anne's place, and for a moment, Kiph thought of whores.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"I cannot be sure if the device you found is explosive or not, unless I got a better chance to study it!" Jonathan had replied to Ralkhara's question, and the hooded nomad frowned - he did not like dealing with uncertainties. He was considering throwing a grenade into the air vent, but now he decided against it - if there was even a chance their device was a high-explosive, it might destroy this town.From out the door Kiph had recently gone through, a gunfire and a scream sounded. "Well, the authorities can deal with the Gkraun! We're traders, d**n it!" With that, the nomad snatched a handful of spare parts from the box and moved swiftly for the door - these aluminium pieces may be useful for some bartering.

Upstairs, Ralkhara took in the scene quickly. He took a moment to peer out at the flag in attempts to identify it, threw the spare parts he had grabbed into the back of the truck, then began searching the place - the truck was running, but the bike was not. Where were the keys to that bike? "Bakur, when you're done with the truck, fill the bike!"

Aah, a bike! He hadn't ridden a motorcycle since before he had met the group he was in, now, but when he was travelling with his fellow nomads, he used to ride from encampment to encampment."Kiph... To nomad town? It would be the safest area where we can regroup and re-think our strategies, even if our move after that is to leave Bleak Wood for dead! Do you remember which way Nomad town is?"

Ralkhara turned, but performed a double-take to peer at Kiph again - in his mind was a vision of the truck doing several flips and exploding in a heap - "And Badblood... Don't do anything stupid."

<< - search/spot hidden to find keys, plus any other useful bits and pieces - oh, and he will check in the ignition of the bike, too! :p). Also, checking for traps or danger would be nice. And a listen check to see if he can hear any more noises from up above. - Identify flag check? What's that, a history check, perhaps, to know who owns the flag and their background? - Navigate check to find the direction for nomad town? And I guess Kiph can do a second navigate check to back up the first in case one fails - Oh, and if there's any useful gear, Ralkhara will get Ceres or Bakur to help throw it in the back of the truck.>>

”Anti radiation nanites, healing nanites, band aid, hypo needles, hypo canisters, blood analyzers, a Geiger counter shaped like an overlong pen and even an alcohol measurer!” Ceres said enthusiastically as she put the equipment into her doctor bag. Her voice was euphoric as she did so, the patterns of her hands reminding Ralkahara of the ritualistic moves of Holy Men.

“Isn’t this like, uhhm, stealing?” Jonathan asked, having already seated himself in the back of the truck.

“Yah! I think it is!” Bakur grinned, having filled the tank of both bike and truck. “I think the Warden is gonna get mightily pissed about this, if he ever finds out!”

Meanwhile Ralkhara had scoured the garage, making sure there were no traps or the like. He did find an alarm button, but nothing else of any notice. There were three G’Kraun on the floor above he decided, provided they were still alive. And then there were those below. Jonathan had been thorough in his blocking of the doors to the cellar and the floors above, and having done that the fearful scientist breathed somewhat easier. Ralkhara decided he would let the Faculty researcher have his peace, and did not tell him that these G’Kraun had entered from the streets.

As he searched the slain watchman, he tried to determine the nature of the banner held high by the band of humans gathered at the space craft, but it was too far away. He did notice the rattling of guns and the screams of men from that direction though. In the pockets of the slain watchman, Ralkhara found a Zippo lighter, several Corona cigarettes, a pineapple hand grenade of the explosive sort, and a key ring that had become tangled into the splint of the grenade. One of those keys fitted the bike, which started on the first try. Seated on the patrol bike, Ralkhara revved the engine softly. Instantly the motorcycle awoke to life, its deep humming joining that of the truck.

Ceres and Bakur leapt into the truck and as Ralkhara rode up alongside Kiph, the assassin began his driving, the sound of hydraulics resounding through the garage.

There was a jarring crash. Looking through the rearview mirror, Kiph saw a huge Enfathath had barged through the door to the floors above. It reared on its hind legs and tilted its head back, issuing forth a shriek that sent cold shivers down their spines.

“DRIVE FASTER KIPH! DRIVE FASTER!” Ceres shouted.

(OOC: One check failed but I am not telling which :p. You have now begun driving and are about ten meters away from the garage. What you do now is up to you. Tent town is to your right, through the bazaar and past the warden’s mansion. You will notice several G’Kraun as you speed through town. The pockets of human resistance are centered around the Warden’s mansion, the Spacer aircraft and inside Steroid Anne's place. If you decide to slow down you may fight the giant G’Kraun that just emerged from the door to the upstairs. Navigation checks are unnecessary, for you know the town well.)

Ralkhara adjusted the choke on the vehicle, allowing more fuel to the engine and the sickly rattling of the bike increased to a healthy, steady humming. Holding down the clutch with one hand, the hooded nomad grabbed his brown shades from a satchel at his belt and fitted them over his eyes before glancing to Kiph, who now had his window wound down, "Go to nomad town. I just want to get a closer look at that banner, then i'll meet you there!" Once that was said - as though on cue - the enormous Enfathath burst through through door behind, and without waiting any more words from Kiph, Ralkhara nudged the bike into gear and turned the handle full throttle - he was off, and heading towards the spacer aircraft and that banner. He just needed to get close enough to make it out, then he would instantly change direction towards Tent Town, whether he recognised the banner or not.

The rain turned to hail and lumps pelted at Ralkhara's bandaged visage, the strips of cloth long since wet. Recognition dawned upon the pathfinder as the black scorpion on a green banner came into view. It was the sign of Khethak, the beefy nomad of Clan Red Sash. Khethak was often only known as "The Barter" which outsiders often misinterpreted as "The Barterer". He was an honorable man and Ralkhara knew that he was in effect the leader of Nomad town. At least when there weren't any grand nomads in the vicinity, and that rarely happened. By the looks of it the nomads stood in a wide circle, studying something on the ground. A perimeter of guards had been placed and as Ralkhara rode by one of them fired upon something in the shadows of the huge vessel. By the entrance of the storage facility, Ralkhara heard the lamentation and crying of women.

But he had decided he would return and thus he turned the bike about, heading after the truck.

Ralkhara’s MotorcycleRalkhara sped through the darkness, the head lights on his motorcycle illuminating the road. The machine gun mounted on the side wagon rattled infernally; obviously someone was meant to hold it. Far ahead the bike’s light revealed the green canvas of a dump truck, small shapes perched inside the cargo hold. From this distance they looked like small colored dots, but the pathfinder knew well those were Ceres, Bakur and Jonathan.

Kiph’s TruckTHUD

The G’Kraun Enfathath had not even had the time to scream as Kiph pushed the petal all the way down. He had hit the mutant with the full force of the truck. For a brief second he saw the oversized jaws and teeth of the mutant hiss at him through the wind shield then it slipped under the truck and disappeared. Ceres and the others only registered a grey shape twisting and bumping, falling farther behind in the darkness. In the rearview mirror Kiph spotted Ralkhara, the fellow nomad was less than one hundred meters behind and closing in. Ralkhara had to maneuver quickly to avoid the mutant, and Kiph smiled as the pathfinder stretched out the boot of his good leg, hitting the dazed G’Kraun in the back of its head as it struggled upright.

Turning left at a corner, and they were close to Nomad Town now, Kiph spotted Wastelander Raiders in the street. There was less G’Kraun here and the assassin figured the main flock was behind him, probably making their way to the Faculty. One of the Wastelanders carried a rifle, while the rest bore metal pipes, spears and bows. At Kiph’s arrival one, a disturbingly thin, tattooed giant, pointed at the truck and screamed with a shrill voice, his words more akin to some odd bird’s hoot than a human cry. In response the rifle carrying Wastelander, whose body was absolutely stripped save for bone necklaces and charms, knelt down aiming his rifle at Kiph.

Off to Nomad Town! Just the thought off that, cheered the Fatebringer up. He could maybe find Abak Loett there and speak to him. He desperately need to speak to a fellow Fatebringer, his old master of course would be ideal Kiph thought, as he gunned the charging truck.

Suddenly, he spied the man pointing the rifle. Kiph had to think fast.

"Bakur! Bakur, take the wheel for a second, switch with me! I have to piss! quickly!"

Without waiting for a reply, Kiph slid down in the driver's seat, below the window level, and squirmed out of the space, switching with the hefty, sweating warrior. As he did so, he crawled into the back of the truck, and handed his new rifle to his muse.

"Ceres, assasin, 10 o'clock", he whispered while Bakur took hold of the wheel.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

The TribalsThe hail thundered against his bare skin, the bone charms jingling as he crouched down and aimed the thunderrod at the rider of the steel horse. Ragrot had alerted him to its presence and the moment he laid eyes on it he knew that the Grand Eagle would reward him well for the capture of the steel horse.

"We pray to the Eagle that your aim is true!" the tattooed giant Ragrot cried, his voice shrill. In response the others of the Durazum tribe howled in unison.

The Thundercarrier strained his eyes trying to see clearly through the hail. The steel horse slowed down, then it went faster once again. Holding his breath the Thundercarrier squeezed the trigger.

Inside the truckKiph slid down in the driver's seat, shortly thereafter the muscular thighs of Bakur squeezed down on him, the warrior entering through the driver's seat door, having slipped under the canvas and climbed the outside of the truck.

"Assassin? Where?" Bakur said

There was the shingle of glass and the cracking of thunder. Suddenly a hail of blood, bones and glass rained in over Kiph. As the truck cringed visibly, Kiph looked up between the thighs of Bakur to see that the warrior had gotten his chest blown open. As he watched the warrior fell over the steering wheel with a pitious moan, crashing his forehead into the dashboard causing even more glass to fall down on Kiph.

"Bas..." Bakur said no more.

MotorcycleThere was the flash of light and the peal of thunder. Suddenly the truck veered visibly, changing its course heading straight for the gate tower to the left. As the two vehicles sped through the hail, Ralkhara noticed tribals cheering and yelling, one triumphantly holding a sniper rifle into the air.

There was a flash of light... a large *Crack* of sound, and the truck before Ralkhara swerved, suddenly. Taking in the scene, Ralkhara noticed the Tribal man waving a rifle above his head.Insolent...! the nomad thought, Did that fool actually fire upon the truck? Beneath his wrappings, Ralkhara's features curled into a scowl and as the truck turned, he continued going straight towards the group of barbarians, grabbing and holding down the clutch lever. Ralkhara held the bike steady with his left hand, the motorcycle coasting forward on its own momentum while the nomad's right hand rummaged through his belt-pack. Sifting through the items in his belt, Ralkhara's hand finally found what he was looking for, and he pulled out a spherical, metallic object which fit comfortably in his hand. About twelve feet away from the Tribal group, Ralkhara flicked the pin off the grenade which was in his hand and let the explosive drop to the side of his vehicle, allowing the device to roll to the group of attackers. The grenade now out of his possession, Ralkhara grabbed hold of the bike handle again, let go of the clutch and pulled full-throttle, speeding past the tribals.Now... where did Kiph drive off to?

Ralkhara gently lobbed the grenade at the savages as he sped past, the tribals' jaws dropping as they spotted the hitherto unseen "steel dog" rider. It was muddy on the ground, and with the hailstones slamming into his bandaged face, Ralkhara's aim was off. The grenade was lobbed past the rifle carrier, missing by some four meters, landing by the wall of a ramshackle building. A tribal squatted there, readying his bow, and when he looked down between his thighs he had noticed the grenade. It had landed beneath his naked rump and testicles. Having never seen such a thing before, he dropped his bow and reached to grab it. At that moment it went off and an explosive hail of crimson rain, body parts and bones ensued, the blast of the explosion hurting and knocking nearby savages off their feet.

Meanwhile Ralkhara momentarily lost control of the bike, nearly hitting the wall. At the very last second before impact, he regainded control of the veering bike missing the corner of the building by scant inches. Cursing softly Ralkhara rode on, for he knew the rifle carrier was mostly unhurt.

I've got to get out of here! Now!

Fear crept into his bones and adrenalin made his focus absolute. Behind him was dead and dying savages, but the most dangerous one would get back on his feet and Ralkhara had no doubt what he would do.

(OOC)The truck is still in front of Ralkhara, veering out of control heading for the brick and plaster guard tower. Ralkhara is about fifty meters behind, nearly losing control of his bike. The savages were hurt, but it is possible the rifle carrier will try to hit Ralkhara in the back. There are buildings he could use as cover if he changed direction, but then Kiph and those in the truck would have to manage on their own for a few seconds until they are all through the gate. Your call guys!

Ralkhara: Missed his grenade throw and barely managed the ride MC check. Grenade is an area of effect weapon, and the random scatter roll indicated it rolled under another savage. It exploded for: Center to 1 meter away: 11 damage to every body part 1-2 meters away: 7 damage to every body part 2-3 meters away: 3 damage to every body part 3-4 meters away: 1 damage to every body part.

"Baaaaakur!" Kiph yelled, and scrambled back into the driver's seat shoving the bloody, immobile behemoth out of the way, while grabbing the wheel once more and struggling to right the wayward truck. Kiph felt glass specks digging into his legs and arms as he steered, but ignored the pain and discomfort.

Daring to glance briefly into the the rear view mirror, Kiph spotted the daredevil Ralkhara, weaving along on his steel horse. A sudden explosion made Kiph nearly jump up in his seat, slamming his head against the truck's ceiling. He heard screams of terror then, and Ralkhara's apparent grenade erupted near the gaggle of savages. "Goooo, Ralkhara!" Kiph screamed unabashedly, the fellow scout's exploits sitting well with the homicidal Badblood.

Kiph was panicking now, as he pulled the rebellious wheel with all his strength. He had to avod teh tower and make it through the gate. If they could just make it to Nomad Town, they would be safe..or so Kiph postulated. Who knew what was going down in Nomad Town now, with all this chaos in the streets perhaps that place was no safer than others.

As he plied, cajoled, and forced the truck into a proper path, Kiph found himself thinking of two things. One was Nomad Town. If only they could make it there, Kiph would take them all to Abak Loett's hangout, and perhaps there, they would all be safe for a while. The G'Kraun, the savages, the wayward gunfire, they would temporarily be safe from all that...if..only..Kiph could make it through the gates.

Then later, those that caused all this would pay...somehow.

Ceres seemed preoccupied with something in the back of the truck. Jonathan's voice could be heard as well, irritating Kiph as he steered. Maybe it was all that bastard's fault, Kiph suddenly thought. He may have to be added to the 'Kill List'.

Oh and someone would pay the price for slaying Bakur. Though the fatebringer's actions had caused the death of the warrior, Kiph did not quite see things that way. The savages would pay..dearly, for exploding Bakur's chest, and sending bits of organs spraying Kiph's pock-marked face.

Using every ounce of his strength and skill, Kiph steered toward the gates of Nomad Town.

<OOC> trying my bestest to recover control of the Steel Ox and steer to and through the gates. </OOC>

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Boil the waters of Amarokh!" Ralkhara cursed as the grenade failed to reduce the rifle-wielding savage into gore. He knew a bullet would be fired in his direction soon... and then there was the problem with the truck - had that bullet hit it's mark? By the time Ralkhara had regained control of his motorcycle, a decision was already made, and he pulled the throttle once more after shifting gears, speeding to catch up to the slower truck. As he gained on the heavier vehicle, he noticed movement in the back, and motioned for the people back there to get down!

<<Ralkhara is attempting to put the truck between him and the rifleman, using the bulkier metal vehicle as cover. He will not, of course, get between the truck and the gate tower though, because he would know what would happen if he was caught between the two and the truck hadn't regained control. Considering nothing else goes wrong (Yeah right :p ) He will then ride on through the gate and continue to Nomad town>>

--TribalsThe Thundercarrier fumed, his face flat in the mud. Cursing the steel dog rider he arose, his back burning with searing pain. With a firm grasp he clasped the thunder stick in his hands. It was time to kill that wretch. Time to avenge his fallen brethren, for only three of his band, including him, would survive.

--CeresMeanwhile Ceres struggled with the assault rifle. She had never used one such as these before and for long she fumbled, trying to find the safety and make sure there were bullets. Aiming while on the careening vehicle was difficult, and when Ralkhara closed in she got nervous she'd hit him.

"Jonathan, are you good with this?" she shouted, but the scientist backed off shaking his head.

Sighing the woman aimed and with a scream she let the bullets go. She fired fully automatic and lost her balance as she shot. Bullets rained everywhere as she waved the rifle left and right, up and down and finally as she fell backwards, she made several holes in the green canvas above, permitting hail to fall through and down on Jonathan and her.

---RalkharaThe right mirror on Ralkhara's bike was obliterated by gunfire as Ceres apparently attempted to take his life. Ralkhara realized the woman was aiming for the tribal, but her aim was so bad that not only did he lose a mirror, but he heard their whistle as they sped past his ears.

---TribalsFor a brief moment he had the crosshairs squarely on the back of the dog rider, but then the ones in the belly of the steel horse loosened the shells of thunder upon him, making the air whistle with the song of eternity (OOC: bullets whistling past). The Thundercarrier was forced to seek cover and cursing he slung himself behind the corner of the building. Having reached relative safety he ordered the two healthy survivors to deliver death to their hurt ones. There would be no one left behind today, and the weak were always killed. Fuming with rage the leader of the raiding party swore a seething oath: These city dwellers would pay! They would pay dearly!

---KiphKiph tried as hard as he could to get the veering truck under control. With a jarring crash it hit the brick tower, scraping off the plaster on the wall, and metal and paint off the truck as it screeched along the tower side. He had barely avoided a full collision and soon he was covered in plaster and white plaster dust as sparks and pieces of the tower flew in through his window. Then, finally, the wall was gone and once again he could control the vehicle. Not only had he avoided a frontal collision, he had saved their very lives!

---Kiph, Jonathan, Ceres and Ralkhara Nomad Town was nearly deserted as Kiph and Ralkhara stopped their engines outside the tent of Abak Loett. The driver's seat door of the truck had jammed completely, so Kiph was forced to exit on the passenger side. In the behind of the truck he heard Ceres convulse and thrash about in some kind of seizure. Then the noise subsided only to be replaced by the sound of the assassin vomitting in the wet mud.

Ralkhara got off his motorbike only to watch Kiph with his face in the mud. Apparently he regurgitated the remains of their earlier dinner. The pathfinder was stunned himself and he could not get his hands to quit shaking. Meanwhile Jonathan helped Ceres out of the truck. She carried an assault rifle that she threw into the mud in front of Kiph.

"I think we all agree that I am not a sharpshooter" she said, forcing a laugh.

*************************15 minutes laterAbak Loett was indeed gone, but his second concubine had received them with open arms. She served date tea and fresh sugar bread which the party members devoured with fierce intensity. Finally they had reached safety.

The creature hissed as it reared on its hind legs, stretching to its full two and a half meters of length. It was wiry and thin, its appendages overlong. Though it was vaguely humanoid in shape it usually walked on all four and in the dark someone could have mistaken if for some mutated giant dog beast. But not so anymore; the grey skinned Kaltharth was bipedal now as it sent it’s mind probing through the hallways beyond.

Life extinguished.Life extinguished

As with all the G’Kraun, the Kaltharth’s teeth had retracted gums and equally retracted, narrow lips, making its grin wolfish in the manner of snarling dogs or some grinning skull. Its canines were long, nearly twice the length of a human, though the rest of its features much resembled those of men. That is if men had grey, scarred skin and black eyes.

*********************

Inside the wreckage of the spacecraftTash Singar snarled beneath the cloth he had wrapped around the neck and mouth. Wiggling a finger; “No, I don’t think so, Eres!”Eres shook his head in protest.

“You are wrong Tash, you are wrong! I never mea…” his words were cut short as they entered the cockpit. Here were the only spacers they had found on the vessel. True, it was a cargo hauler, not a troop carrier, and easily the biggest they’d ever seen, but ships like these required at least someone to fix the engine and load the cargo bay. That was in addition to the two pilots whose body parts now covered most of the panels and interior of the cockpit.Looking at his fellow nomad Tash finally broke the stunned silence, his face pale, discomfort obvious in his voice.

“The Barter ain’t gonna like this one bit, Eres. Mark my words. Not one bit!”

“What the Barter thinks is the least of our problems, Tash. The fore hull is intact. Whatever killed these pilots did so from within”.

*********************

Nomad Town, Near Abak Loett’s TentInside the tent the discussion was lively. Kiph was worried about her by the sounds of it, and Ralkhara was eager to get out of town now that they had a truck, a bike and much valuable loot. Both men agreed that the town had descended into untolerable chaos, but Jonathan, his voice a steady whine, desperately urged them to take him to the Faculty.

Ceres thoughts were elsewhere completely. Reverently nudging Bakur out of the driver’s seat of the heavily damaged truck, she carried the immense fallen warrior away from the tents to a hole she had dug minutes ago. Gently she lowered him into his grave, and as she did so a tear fell down her cheek.

“Thus we part, my friend, not with laughter and a hug, but with blood and mud and tears. Though I know you liked me not, I never held any grudge against you. You were loyal and brave. A true warrior!”

Having finished her soft speech, she lifted a shovel she had borrowed from the second concubine. Little by little she threw earth and mud into the hole, and when the wastelander finally disappeared tears ran in rivulets down her cheek.

Ralkhara pointedly ignored Jonathan's pleadings of going back to the faculty. Addressing the Second Concubine, the nomad asked her if she knew where they could buy goods in the nearby area - especially fuel. Ralkhara had decided that the risk of staying within Bleak Wood much longer was a high-cost action, and besides, there wouldn't be much trading going on with the chaos happening at the moment - a wise move would be to find a neighboring town and buy medical and food supplies, then come back to Bleak wood and trade them when the chaos had died down - prices would be up, and someone should profit from the madness here - why not us? Ralkhara had shared these thoughts earlier with Kiph and Ceres to gauge their thoughts on it.

At the make-shift funeral for Bakur, Ralkhara had stood in the background, saying nothing but simply watching. Bakur had been of good use for muscle and intimidation - it was unfortunate that he was gone, but no tears were shed by the scout. Absently, Ralkhara remembered the last time he had seen funeral rites, and he idly rubbed his aching cheek behind his bandaged wrappings.

To Jonathan, he suggested that he find the correct militia to accompany him back to the Faculty - otherwise there were always several mercenaries in Nomad Town which sought after the thrill of danger - he could petition to them to follow him.

The ceremony of welcoming, trade of services and the sundering of the partyAmongst the nomads there were two kinds of spouses; one could take a wife, and be bound to her as an equal in all matters, or one could elect to have concubines in the stead of a wife. In the case of wives there was the pooling of resources, the combining of two clan economies and the forging of an alliance. Wives were chosen for their birthing capacities, but also as a strategic partner for defense and prosperity. Sometimes even love was involved. Sometimes, but not always. Concubines were another matter entirely and mostly beautiful women of poor nomad families and clans elected such a life. In this there was no dishonor for it was a conscious choice made by the woman and her clan. In exchange for gifts and offerings of protection and perhaps minor trading rights if the concubine-to-be possessed extraordinary beauty, the woman of the poor clan would bind herself to a master. It would be her place to be obedient and provide the master and his guests with pleasure and comfort. No longer a free willed individual, the concubine was now a tool; a cook, a lover, a whore, a maid and an object worthy of respect and admiration. It was ever the way of the nomads and the teachings of Amarokh, for the Lost God of the Oasis would not tolerate any abuse and mistreatment of these reborn objects of desire, or so said the spiritmasters. Even more there could be male concubines too, but those were rarely heard off, though Kiph had seen one once.

Never one to share his life with equals, Abak Loett had taken three concubines instead of a wife, and Kiph had shared bed with most of them save for the newest addition, a tan beauty he had met but once.

And so we meet again, you and I second concubine of my former master

Flushed Kiph fought the rising tension in his crotch as the second concubine massaged his neck, her bottom nudging rhythmically against his penis as she squatted in his lap, practicing massage the way nomad concubines were wont to do.

Ralkhara paid her little heed for he well knew the ancient traditions of the nomad concubines, bestowed upon other nomads that were friendly to their master. “Do you know where I can find supplies? Fuel, food and medical supplies?” the pathfinder grew restless, for there was not the time for this. True, he realized that the other nomads only saw profit in this endeavor, for had not a spacer vessel rained from above, a bounty ripe for the taking? Still, in spite of their words of warning, the concubine had insisted upon the ancient ritual of greeting. A little delayed, after the initial debate and the impromptu funeral, but still she insisted.

“Master Abak ever anticipates your actions, master Ralkhara” the concubine said, her hips swaying most favorably, by the sight of Kiph, as her fingers kneaded shoulders, edging ever down the Fatebringer’s spine. “But I must admit as to so some curiosity from his part as to why you require fuel? If memory serves, you had quite the supply, you two and your horned woman friend”

And as Kiph and Ralkhara bartered with the woman, Jonathan silently left the tent, a singular purpose in mind. Well, almost singular for the scientist had never witnessed the manner in which a nomad concubine welcomed a friend of the family. Stealing one last stare at the ample woman, the scientist slipped from the tent, heading back for the Faculty. His mind was numbed with terror, but there was one thing the scientist could not ignore. One thing he would not reveal to friends, even stalwart ones such as Ceres.

Better that she does not know. As for the rest of them, they believe me dead already. It matters not. The die is cast, an enemy unveiled. If the Warden still breathes there will be a reckoning, and much need be done.

Looking back the eyes of the scientist fell upon Ceres, the huge woman crying by her friend’s grave. She stood there still, long after the others had gone back inside the tent. It was as if she had not even noticed their presence during the burial. But they had been there, respectfully honoring their fallen friend.

“Fare thee well, my horned friend. Though you do not know so, your path is now fraught with far more danger than mine. In the face of this oncoming storm, I fear there will be no safe place, no shelter nor sanctuary. No place except perhaps the Warden’s place. We shall see. Aye, we shall see.”

Back inside the tent the bartering proceeded far more smoothly than Ralkhara had anticipated. With Kiph smiling sheepishly beneath her, his eyelids even now closing as sleep claimed him the woman whispered her unexpected offer to Ralkhara.

“My master has a proposition for you, pathfinder. He has desire for passage. In the face of this, he truly believes there is but one wise course of action, and that is to flee this wretched place” squeezing Kiph’s nipple, making him grunt and curse, she awoke the partially slumbering nomad.

“Abak Loett wishes safe passage and space in your truck, for himself, his home and his three concubines. In return he offers one hundred liters of fuel, food, enough to keep you fed for one month, but no medical supplies. He does offer you several grams of spirit weed, though, as well as a finely cut pipe of Bleak Wood make. A nice souvenir from this place, don’t you think? I see from your eyes that you wonder at this lavish gift. All I can say is that my master intends to travel long and far.”

"So be it" Ceres tossed the last showel of wet dirt upon the grave, and rolled a nearby boulder over it, as a crude headstone of sorts, perhaps to keep away beasts that might dig him up, perhaps because somehow, it reminded her of Bakur? She was the last one to know.

Resembling a monster of the bogs more than a civilised human, she stood there, in the rain, letting it wash away... all. Sweep away the heat of the last hours, the feeling of failure, the aura of pain on the edge of her consciousness - pain that seemed to cover Bleak Wood like a malignant shroud. Wash it away...

A while later, she poked her wet visage into the tent and, matter-of-factly, spoke: "We should be of - whether to fetch our prize, or get out of this hole is up to you. My judgment is not sound today. And... where is Jonathan anyway?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Ralkhara's questioning of the concubine distracted Kiph from his own musings, deep awash as he was in ecstatic convulsions.

"Where is your master, that I might honor him?" Kiph managed between murmerings. The woman's hands were practiced, organic tools of pleasure.

Soon, Kiph was drifting off, but then a sharp, but not unpleasant pain in his chest woke him once more. He had heard the concubine's request and was amazed at what he had just heard. Not only had his master needed Kiph's help, but the wily, old nomad was offering a ripe bonanza in return.

“Abak Loett wishes safe passage and space in your truck, for himself, his home and his three concubines. In return he offers one hundred liters of fuel, food, enough to keep you fed for one month, but no medical supplies. He does offer you several grams of spirit weed, though, as well as a finely cut pipe of Bleak Wood make. A nice souvenir from this place, don’t you think? I see from your eyes that you wonder at this lavish gift. All I can say is that my master intends to travel long and far.”

"Of course! Tell him we will oblige him. Where is he, where is Master Loett?" Kiph mouthed without hesitation, as he witnessed Ceres poking her weary face inside the tent.

But where was Jonathan? Kiph looked around but the scientist was not inside the ample, layered tent.

"Ceres, where is your...friend? Has he gone away? He is a c***, I dont trust him."

Kiph awaited a responce as he dragged himself to a sititng position, and eyed his two companions. Ceres would have the last word he thought, but he was sure the horned woman would accept the unprecedented offer. If not, Kiph would steal the truck and take Abak Loett himself...anywhere the master needed to go.

Rising, he slowly approached the warrior woman. "Bakur was a good man. He died well. It was him or me, you understand. He took the bullet meant for me", he spat, and ventured out into the hazy night, paranoid suddenly that the group was being watched or tracked by someone.

Kiph trusted Ceres and Ralkhara to seal the deal with the concubine. He had nothing further to say until he could speak to his master personally.

He breathed deeply once he stepped out of the tent and looked around.

<OOC if I can spot Jonathan, I go after him. Silent commando style. If I can catch up to the scientist, I incapacitate him immediately</OOC>

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Well then" Ceres got seated in the tent instead of the fugitive Kiph, keeping a healthy distance from the overly amorous concubine, though. "Your deal sounds mostly agreeable, with a few changes, and we certainly will be glad to leave this place in such pleasant company as you and your ... master." Ceres had to pause, still foreign to Nomad manners, and still opposed to many of their peculiarities. "Certainly, we will need medical supplies to bring the three of us back on line, and while you're on board, we'll be using your gasoline. Other than that, I agree with your deal, so let's get packed and move out before yet another hunk of junk drops from the sky."

Ye get out now, she thought, and return in force. She'll be havoing her artifact, and something from that wreck too. Soon enough. No more running away for Ceres.

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Ten days later.In a still functional mountain cabin,150 kilometers to the north - north west.

”Jonathan! Jonathan!” Her face had been drenched with rain, her hair clinging to her head and her horn jutting out like a reef in the water. Kiph had been searching the premises for the timid scientist, but he had returned empty handed, save for a nasty cut in his right shoulder, a look of horror upon his face and an almost dying Master Loett in his arms, but the strange assassin would not speak of it. Jonathan had disappeared, just as Bleak Wood had disappeared, its moonlit silhouette growing ever more distant as she had gazed at it from her place in the passenger seat of the truck. At least the rain had stopped to grant her that parting boon.

Master Loett had appeared with Kiph, badly wounded having lost his left arm from just above his elbow and down, leaving only a helpless stump. His left eye had been gouged out, his right ear lobe bitten off, and his right hand burnt badly. The newest concubine had fainted just at the sight of him, earning her a disapproving frown from Kiph. Still, with Ceres’ skills he had been saved, but it had been close, and he had been put in the back of the truck, swathed in layers of silk and cushioning pillows. It was all they could do really, if they were to flee the fallen city. His possessions were numerous and only one concubine could to stay in the back with him, while another rode with Ralkhara and the third one sat in between Kiph and Ceres, much to the Fatebringer’s amusement.

Ceres shook her head and tried to sleep once more. Their journey had been long and arduous, for the wastelands offered precious few tracks and even fewer places in which to rest and recuperate. Much of the journey had been spent pushing and shoving the great truck, while Ralkhara and one of the concubines drove in advance, scouting out the terrain in front.

“At least there were no battles” Ceres said, as if to herself.

“Amarokh be our witness!” Ralkhara replied from the upper bunk. Apparently the Pathfinder could not sleep either.

“Ralkhara? What do you think, Ralkhara? What do you think of it all? Where should we go? What should we do?” her voice was weaker than she had intended.

Part of her wanted to go back to Bleak Wood – To discover what had become of the place, and perhaps to find Jonathan and retrieve their lost equipment. The relic of Radiatos was a heavy loss indeed, and Ceres was sure their newfound equipment, which was stolen equipment to boot, would not even compensate for a fraction of their loss. She just knew it, though her mercantile skills were dubious at best.

To the north were the Steelspine Mountains, supposedly impenetrable barriers of stone, ice and snow, though the nomads had spoken of tracks leading over it... Sometimes even under. According to some legends, the ancients lived there still, behind those mountains, and in their lands the valleys were full of bounty.

Or they could go due west, to the lands of the Train Peoples; the River Train Tribes and the Train People proper: Bakur’s lands of birth. But the River Train Tribes were at war there, and in their cannibalistic frenzy they could be dangerous to anyone. Also, the Aural Raiders had always made their home in that region, even though the latter years had brought lessened activity from these legendary bandits of the wastes.

Another choice was to the east, though she knew little of the lands there. Apparently the city of Light had been in that vicinity, but it had vanished without a trace, or so said the rumours. There was no going back to Corona though. Not like this. She refused to come back as a whipped whelp, bested by the wastelands and in dishonor. That was not her way.

**********

Ralkhara listened to the morose woman. She had grown introvert and silent since their flight from Bleak Wood, and sometimes the Pathfinder doubted the woman knew what was best for her. They were alive and that was all that counted for the leather wrapped scout.

Though calling Master Loett alive is a matter of interpretation at the moment. Ever since his mysterious rescue at Kiph’s hands, he has been falling in and out of consciousness. I wonder what they faced there, alone in the darkness outside the tent? Kiph won’t speak of it. He thinks no one knows, but I have heard him weep in his sleep. What happened to us back there?

Ralkhara exhaled heavily. Ceres had spoken, her mind was now on the immediate future. Whatever they did, they needed the Fatebringer Master’s fuel, and his concubines had proven ample cooks, and for Kiph even more. Ralkhara had yet to sample their myriad pleasures, excepting their meals, but as no one in their party cooked, they proved to be a fine addition to their caravan.

**********

Kiph said nothing. He had felt fatigued ever since he left the tent on that fateful night in Bleak Wood. He had followed the tracks of Jonathan all the way to the city gates, and there he heard the screams. Abak Loett had practically fallen into his hands, his left arm severed, and his ear bitten off. At that moment followed a carnage Kiph would never forget. Tens, nearly a hundred nomads perished that night as the mutant menace was unleashed in full, the pack united under a giant of sorts; a horrid nightmare of teeth and claws. Whipping his pack forth while it dispatched lives at random, its raking claws delivering death to those unfortunate enough to stand in its way. The Warden had arrived, bringing his gunmen of the city watch, and that was when Kiph fled. He ran as fast as he could, bringing his master along.

Never mind Bleak Wood, or the Warden, curse his soul. Never mind Jonathan or the relic of Radiatos or the stores of fuel they left behind. Kiph wanted to live, but he remembered it still. That leader of the mutant pack, it had looked straight at him. And with that gaze came a terrible thought, a horrible vision. He had been promised eternal death and pain beyond reckoning by the G’Kraun fiend, and those visions had been so vivid, so painful and brutal, that they haunted him still. He could not rest nor sleep, without having those visions haunt him. Even worse, sometimes he felt as if that terrible fiend knew where he was, and Kiph knew where it was too; it was on their track. It was following them, and in their wake was a trail of destruction. A depraved road of human carcasses and brutal extinction, every corpse screaming his name, telling him he did this.

Kiph was tired. He was so very, very tired.

OOC:The game will not end this glumly. We will discuss in the OOC, and a more optimistic post will be appended by yours truly. I have locked the game though, for the IC part is done, save for that final post by me (based on your OOC decisions)